


She's made of chestnut and hazel

by DauntlessSubconscious



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Memories, Prompt Fic, wickedlywonderfulweekofreylo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 11:18:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7168913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DauntlessSubconscious/pseuds/DauntlessSubconscious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The motion of his hands as they go through her hair never fail to bring back the memories, but he will gladly take the reminiscence for another time like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She's made of chestnut and hazel

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!  
> Fifth and final day of the Wickedly Wonderful Week of Reylo challenge.  
> Friday's prompt: braids
> 
> Thank you, KagamiSorciere, for this great oportunity, it was a challenge for sure, but I had so much fun with this! Also, thank you, rachel_greatest, for keeping up with my crazy ideas and odd schedules! This wouldn't be here if it weren't for your support :)
> 
> When we got the prompts, this one was the first I envisioned and it's my personal favorite. Let me know what you think of it!

The soft, brunette strands of hair spill through his fingers, glistening dark gold when kissed by sunlight. The warmth surrounds them on this side of the window; outside, the wind tangles the branches of the trees and the few remaining leaves fly freely, carried by the invisible tendrils of the breeze. He parts another section with sure, yet gentle moves and crosses it to the opposite side. He repeats the motion one, two, three, maybe more than a dozen times and he relishes each one of them. 

 

A stranger to his past might witness this scene and say without any hesitation that he’s meant for this; in this very moment, he believes that, too. He wants to believe that, too. The reality of things, though, isn’t branded by innocence. His hands, the ones that handle these chestnut tresses with utmost reverence also bear the weight of destruction. His hands, bloodstained beyond recognition, will never be harmless, will never be virtuous.

Redemption, acceptance, forgiveness… Finn always says he has earned them, and deep down, Ben wishes he didn’t. Finn’s transparency does not betray, Ben knows he’s being truthful to his beliefs, sincere from his point of view. But Ben also knows what he did, and if he were a stranger glimpsing into his past, he wouldn’t grant any of those words to the man who used to be Kylo Ren.

 

“Question,” she says and her voice, as usual, manages to pull him from his naturally brooding mind. He hums, prompting her to keep talking, a selfish but necessary request to remain focused in the present. His eyes don’t detour from the task.

 

“What kind of braid is this?” She asks, the sweet timber of her voice interlaced with drowsiness; he can tell the motions of his hands are driving her to slumber.

 

“Fishtail braid,” he answers, a lazy smile contouring his lips. She yawns and sags on her seat a bit more. “Don’t fall asleep, sweetheart, we have things to do… we can’t go back to bed.”

 

He just gets a small grunt in response and his side smirk mixes with the nostalgia bubbling in his chest.

 

_ “C’mon, Rey, we gotta get up.” _

 

_ And yes, they really do. He would happily give any limb to be able to remain here, but he somehow suspects Luke would rather having them whole and awake, preferably within the next fifteen minutes. Things have been better lately, no one on the base—including his uncle—has tried to murder him in the last month, so that has to count for something, and Ben… Well, he doesn’t want to push his luck. _

 

_ Rey’s prone and very naked body doesn’t even stir and he can’t muster a single sliver of annoyance for it. He enjoys watching her sleep and he has a mild idea of how creepy that sounds, but sometimes, staring, touching her are the only anchors he has to avoid the dread of what if’s. What if this isn’t real, what if he’s still in his dark room and this is just another vivid dream, like the ones they used to share through the bond? _

 

_ “Rey,” he tries again, but this time one of his hands travels over the expanse of her back. The freckles dotting her tanned skin mix with old scar tissue, childhood brands like the ones she used to carve on the wall of her AT-AT, tallies she won’t be able to forget. He’d dared to ask once about them and he vowed to never do it again, for her eyes had gone to a distant corner—of the galaxy, of herself—and she’d seemed so lost, helpless in that instant that his hands had turned into fists, wishing to tear apart the creature responsible for those wounds. Ben might not understand about her courage, but he certainly did when it came to a haunting past. _

 

_ His lips brush the nape of her neck and that does make her stir and turn her head towards him. “Morning,” she mutters and kisses him, just a soft press of lips born out of the forging of a habit, and for that he deems it more meaningful. She’s still half asleep when her feet touch the ground, she hesitates on her next move and when she looks at him, her face is utter confusion. “Did we make it through the night?” _

 

_ He knows she’s talking about the nightmares. He nods with his lips quirked in a small smile.  _

 

_ “That’s a first,” she muses, openly surprised by the novelty. Bad dreams often plague them; if it’s not his mind the one to hijack their rest, it’s hers. Whether the terrors are powered by sand or snow, the bond is now strong enough to connect them even in dreams; but while it’s far from ideal, they try to see the silver linings in this tether. He doesn’t talk about his demons, neither does she, but the feel of her fingers combing through his hair while the steady beat of her heart lulls him back to sleep is an experience he doesn’t think he’s worthy of.  _

 

_ He doesn’t deserve her, he’s aware of that. _

 

_ A little grunt of frustration catches his attention and he sees her sitting at the foot of the bed, her back towards him. She’s trying to rule her bed hair into her customary three buns, but her shoulders sag, abandoning the ordeal.  _

 

_ He moves closer, sitting behind her, his long legs resting around hers. “C’mere,” he says and she complies, surrendering to his touch. “Your hair's too long for those buns.” When she hums in appreciation, he lays a kiss on her shoulder. _

 

_ “Where did you—”  _

 

_ Rey suddenly goes quiet and her hands, that up until that moment were caressing the long braid, fall limp by her sides before keeping them busy with her belt.  _

 

_ No, he doesn’t deserve her, but he wants to. _

 

_ “Leia,” he says. It’s not much, but it’s all he can offer right now.  _

 

_ Rey turns and he sees understanding, acceptance in her eyes. “Thank you,” she says. He knows she means more than the dutch braid. _

 

She takes his hand as they walk down the hallway and it strikes him as odd, since she prefers freedom, she always has. Their fingers interlace and he gives her a little squeeze accompanied with a smile. 

 

She’s a focal point of the universe, he decides then, seeing her interact with the officers and pilots that walk by them. It’s not about her strength in the Force, it surpassess that mythical portion of their lives; but still, she’s a rare occurrence, capable of projecting a gravitational pull and affecting, molding, changing most of the people that cross her path. 

Maybe his opinion is biased—he doesn’t really care. 

 

“C’mon, we’re going to be late.”

 

_ “C’mon, Leia wants us in her office.” _

 

_ He frowns. The General had never imposed a meeting before. He wishes he could react with something different than dread, but it’s an intrinsic response, a trait of his personality. He knows there’s no mending for that. _

 

_ He relaxes when he finds out this is an strategic meeting, at least, until his uncle mentions that they’ve found Snoke’s dwelling. The room quickly becomes a circus of comments and hushed opinions on the path to follow. Ben recognizes where this is going, it’s not particularly hard to deduce. _

 

_ He tries to reason with Rey, asking her to remain on the base, they both know there are excellent points on his favor, but it’s no use. She’s going, she has made that abundantly clear. _

 

She ventures ahead and when she trips, Ben’s world slows down; he sees every detail of the fall, yet he’s too far away to stop it.

 

_ Luke lays unconscious on the black stone of the chamber’s floor; if Snoke hasn’t finished his uncle yet it’s because Rey’s and his joined efforts keep him occupied. He reacts to Rey’s warning half a second too late; something hits him in the back of his head and his vision darkens for an instant, sending him to the ground as well. In between the slow rise and fall of his eyelids, he sees her battle his former master. He tries to get up, but the vaulted room spins around him; with his senses tempered, he can’t be sure if Rey is alright or not, but he does feel a powerful pull in the Force. On his second try, he finally stands and— _

 

_ “Ben!” _

 

_ Snoke charges and some bit of his mind is mildly aware he won’t be able to get away in time, his limbs unresponsive and his thoughts too slow. There’s a flash of yellow before his disoriented eyes. He feels the Force tremble, its energy rippling in his veins, pulsing erratically between the walls of the room. The creature falls, but so does Rey. _

 

_ The searing pain setting her chest ablaze and the titanic task of drawing a breath, the longing for home and their family, the images and memories of their daughter… He feels it all through the bond. _

 

_ He stumbles towards her, her name is a prayer spilling from his lips, because it was supposed to be him, not her... “No, no, don’t—” He cradles her body against his. “We had a deal, remember? I can’t do it alone, I’ll fuck it up.”  _

 

You’ll do fine, Solo… Take care of them, take care of her.  _ The brush of her mind against his feels warm, familiar and he’s not ready to let go, she can’t— _

 

_ Her hand reaches for his and she smiles faintly. _

 

_ He doesn’t know how much time passes until Finn finds them. The man’s screams are deafening, but not nearly as much as the silent void where her mind used to be. _

 

When he reaches his daughter’s prone form, he sees her shoulders are shaking and for a moment, he thinks she’s badly hurt and crying in pain; but then, the nine-year-old turns over her back and she’s nearly cackling. He feels as if his heart is trying to pound the way out of his chest and she’s laughing as if there were no tomorrow. Her tunic is stained with grass, there’s mud all over her and one of her knees is scrapped, but still she laughs.

 

He looks back to his mother to only find she’s laughing too.

 

Jae is up and running again in the piles of dry leaves. She probably thinks he doesn’t notice, but she’s not-so-secretly levitating small stones, testing her abilities with the Force when he’s looking away.

 

“She asked me about Rey the other day,” Leia comments and it makes him sigh. “She’s heard the stories, Ben… She will need to know about Kylo, soon.”

 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for that.” The last thing he wants to witness is disappointment or hatred on her face. 

 

“She would rather hear it from you,” his mother says, and she’s right, of course she is. “Don’t make the same mistakes I did.”  He’s silent for a moment, and Leia takes the cue. “I wouldn’t worry too much, she will understand, just like Rey when you didn’t understand it yourself.”

 

He hopes.

 

_ “Are you sure?” _

 

_ He’s terrified. He doesn’t fear death, he has seen it and caused it too many times; he doesn’t fear suffering, since all those years under Snoke’s tutelage had consisted in discovering the different levels of pain. But this… He has ruined countless lives—that is a weight his shoulders will never lose—he doesn’t want to add another one to the list. _

 

_ Rey nods. Her eyes well in tears. _

 

_ Two long strides and he’s before her, surrounding her with his arms and he swears he will never let go. His thumb dries the tears marring her cheeks and he finds that the dread recedes, pushed back by a warmth that’s slowly but surely filling his chest. Rueful smiles appear on their faces and they meet halfway for a kiss. _

 

_ “I’ll make you a deal,” she says with his forehead resting above hers. _

 

_ “Yeah?” _

 

_ “We’ll take it one day at the time, and we’ll do it together.” _

 

_ “Sounds good to me.” _

 

He looks at his daughter and his heart swells with pride, because she is his, yes, but she’s Rey’s even more. She’s fiery, brave; she has the same determination and endless forgiveness that Rey showed him when no one else did, when he didn’t deserve it. Jae inherited the shape of his mouth and his sass, he’s sure, but in the end she’s made of chestnut and hazel, just like her mother.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't blame anyone but me for this one, I'm a sucker for angst...


End file.
